


Let It Go

by merrabeth



Series: Fic!Febuary [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:42:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrabeth/pseuds/merrabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kind of prompted for one of them to be caught singing or rockin' out. This is what I came up with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It Go

It was one of those rare occasions when Mickey had the whole house to himself. And after his dad and brothers left, he sat down on the couch for a minute, enjoying the spacious feeling. Not a few minutes later he was texting Ian. He wanted to share this spacious feeling with him. After he’d sent the text, he shivered, realizing how gay that sounded in his head.

But when Ian got there, he made it clear that before they did anything, he had to finish his homework, which put Mickey in a mood for the first couple of hours that they were together. Ian laid his textbooks out in front of the couch, getting in a comfortable position on his stomach to try and do these stupid trig functions. He took out his iPod, the one he’d been saving up for, and laid it out so he’d be able to listen to his music.

“…You’re not gonna play in faggy pop shit right?” Mickey asked, sitting low on the couch, putting the TV on mute.

The answer the red head gives is his middle finger while he scrolls down the list and decides to go with a song by Papa Roach: Getting Away with Murder. He looked up to Mickey, raising his eyebrows as if to say, “How’s this?”

Mickey rolled his eyes and looked back to the television, watching the MMA fight on mute. From that point on, it was all pretend. One of the guys may have just knocked someone out with their foot, but all he saw was Ian’s back muscles work has he turned the page or repositioned himself on his elbows. All he paid attention to was the way Gallagher would chew on his pencil, how he’d twirl it in his hands, and how he’d stick it behind his ears. Mickey’s eyes snapped back up to the TV as Ian stirred, pulling in and sitting back on the heels of his feet.  “I’m thirsty,” he stated.

“Not my problem.”

Ian rolled his eyes and got up completely, walking to the kitchen. “Hey,” Mickey called out. “Get me a beer, would ya?” He smirked when Ian called back mockingly, “Get it yourself.”

A song came on, nothing special to Mickey, but he listened to the words and chuckled. The lyrics were almost the complete opposite of his situation:

_I’m from a little city with expensive taste._

When Ian came back with two beers, he asked nonchalantly, “What’s the name of this song?”

Ian paused, listening to the lyrics. “Oh, Let It Go by The Neighborhood. Why?” He sat next to Mickey on the couch. “You like it?”

Mickey scoffed. “Fuck off.” He glanced at Ian and his splayed out books on his floor. “You done?”

He breathed out deeply. “Nah,” he looked to Mickey with a grin he hoped came out seductive. “But I figured I deserve a little break.”

Mickey bit on his bottom lip and punched his arm playfully. “Who you callin’ little?”

And with that comment, they were ripping at each other‘s clothes.

The next day came, and Mickey woke to an empty bed, and got worried. After he heard the shower running, he sighed. The shiver came again, questioning where his thoughts were coming from.

He found Ian’s iPod on his dresser, and looked through absently. When he came upon that song he’d mentioned yesterday. While he tried to find something clean to where, he found himself absently singing the chorus, which was super catchy. He was still searching when the song was over, so he put it on repeat, liking the song more and more every time he listened. By the third time, he was singing some of the words, humming the parts he didn’t know. He found a shirt that wasn’t completely unbearable; one of his tanks. He smiled as he put it on. He turned to play the song again and internally chastised himself for jumping a bit when he saw Firecrotch, still pretty wet with just a towel wrapped around his waist, leaning against his doorway. He wore that shit-eating grin smugly.

He rubbed his bottom lip, glaring down Ian. “You didn’t see anything.” He bumped shoulders with the red head as he left the room.

“I knew you liked it,” Ian called back.

Mickey bent his head and smiled, and this time he didn’t question his actions.


End file.
